


Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bounty Hunters, Con Artists, Crimes & Criminals, Dean/Pamela - Freeform, Gambling, M/M, john/mary - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 14:38:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17830451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: Sam’s never brought anyone home to meet the family before. Maybe it was because he never met just the right person. Maybe it was because his family was made of con artists, bounty hunters and hustlers. But now that he’s head over heels in love with Victor Henriksen, he thinks it’s time. After all, his family loves him. And so does this FBI agent. What could possibly go wrong?





	1. The Roundup

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous Prompt fill.

Dean was watching the show from his position by the exit when his phone began to buzz. Emmanuel Allen and his sister Jo Anael were in top form today, ministering to the masses, and healing the unnecessarily wealthy and gullible. Pamela’s blindness had been cured four times already this week, and Dean’s pockets were so full he might actually develop the limp that Emmanuel had healed over a dozen times by now. He snickered to think of it, as he answered the phone call. 

“Hey, little brother,” he said cheerfully. “How can Dean Smith help you today?”

~~~~~~

Mary tossed her opponent to the ground with great effort, and placed her booted foot firmly on the man’s throat. She reached for her .22 and held it steady on his head. “End of the line, Arthur,” she muttered. “Your former employer will be interested to know what you’ve been up to.” She was somewhat out of breath, but her most recent catch was not going anywhere now. So when her phone buzzed, she smirked down at the cursing man, and answered it while she rested. 

“Sam! Hi, baby!” She dug her heel in a little harder as Arthur began to squirm. “No, I’m not busy at all! What’s up?”

~~~~~~

John smiled across the table. The money was nice. The adrenaline was addictive. But the best moment of the hustle was always the look on the face of the guy who had been convinced just moments ago that he was the one with all the power. The way a player lost his color like that, when he realized he’d been had...Well, that was what made it all worth it. “Better luck next time, Damon,” he growled out in his quiet, confident voice. “Unless you’d like to hit up Patrick for another loan? We can play another round if you’re up for that.”

The man’s horrified stare reflected the yellow paint chipping off the walls in the club’s back room. He stumbled to his feet, and backed away. “You…You hustled me!”

“File a complaint with the establishment,” John suggested, as his hands got busy cleaning up his winnings. “Or man up by finding another thousand to buy in for another round. You know where to find me.” Caleb silently followed after to be certain the man left the club without turning back. 

His phone buzzed as he was counting his winnings. He smiled. “Sammy, it’s been a long time, son. You need something?”

~~~~~~

Sam heaved a happy sigh, and set the phone down. It was all set now. All three of the others were on board for the reunion. 

“Sam, they’re going to hate me.”

He put his arms around his lover and smiled up at him. “They’re going to love you,” he argued, and set to work relieving the body of the man he loved of his clothing. Piece by piece, he tossed the fabric onto the table where Victor’s FBI-issued gun and badge lay judging them both.


	2. The Usual Suspects

The Impala roared through the gates of the old Campbell estate with a cocky attitude. In fact, it drove most places with the same smirking confidence. But today was an especially good day. 

He had awoken with a hot redhead in his bed, which had pissed off Sister Jo in a delicious way, and now he was going to let it all simmer for a few days. The game was almost more fun than the prize. He licked his lips happily, and alternated between remembering last night and this morning. Both were beautiful scenes, in different ways. 

He loved being wanted. It was the thing that fed him. He thrived on the risks of the con, the dangers of the scam. He luxuriated in the money he walked away with. And the affections of the women around him made him drunk on it. Dean loved being wanted. 

Yes, it was a very good day. Dean’s wallet was full and his baby brother was in town. 

The saunter to the door of the Campbell manor slowed a little as he thought of whom he would be meeting with. 

This was the first time the Family Winchester had convened for quite a while. It wasn’t so unusual for two of them to meet up, but three was rare, and four hadn’t happened in years. They weren’t exactly a Christmas card kind of family. Dean was equal parts excited and anxious to be surrounded by his family. On one hand, it was what he wanted most in the world. On the other hand…

“Dean. Why don’t you tune up your car once in a while? I didn’t give you the damn thing so you could let it rust.”

He swallowed hard, and turned. The hand which had reached for the door handle dropped to his side. He glanced back at his precious Baby, and forced his words. “Yeah. You’re right. How are you, Dad?”

The large man took the last few steps between them quickly. They looked one another in the eye, almost suspiciously, then embraced for a quick hug. 

Dean scowled as John stepped back and handed him his own wallet. 

His father’s smirk was merciless. “Keep an eye on your things, son. I’m out of practice. Shouldn’t be able to lift a billfold off you so easy.”

He snatched back his property. “Stupid to think I can trust my old man to hug me without ripping me off.”

“Pretty stupid,” John agreed. Then he gave his son a true smile. “Felt a little on the heavy side. You been taking day work?”

Dean’s own humor was returning to him. He grinned. “Emmanuel and me are still on the road. Doing the Lord’s work, you know.”

John snickered, and clapped him on the back. “That’s my boy. His sister still along for the ride?”

Emmanuel and Joanna Allen were a brilliant team. Emmanuel was the quiet, sincere minister, and his twin sister, who went by Jo Anael Allen, or Sister Jo, as Emmanuel called her, was the gorgeous, passionate loyalist. They were gifted with the healing touch bestowed upon them as children by angels, who recognized their special faith and inherent goodness. They travelled around the country, hosting revivals for the wealthiest among the faithful, who were happy to donate to their cause in exchange for a private show of the miracles of Heaven. 

Dean had met them while they were trying to con him at an upscale auction house where he and Pamela were pulling off a lovely little jewelry snatch. He had met Pamela when she had tried to seduce him and make off with his money a year before, while he was working a job with Bela Talbot scamming an overpaid CFO out of his Christmas bonus. That was before Bela had turned on him, of course. 

“Jo? She’s the best part of the job,” he answered with a wink. 

His father laughed, then shook his head. “You know you gotta move on soon. FBI is going to be on them before long, or a particularly ambitious sheriff of some town is going to-“

Dean waved this away. “Just a few more shows. I got nothing to lose.”

“You already got a record, son.”

The reminder was unnecessary. He shrugged. “Yeah. So does Mom. Doesn’t keep her from clocking in.”

A hum was the only answer he received. 

The sound of tires squealing made both men look up warily, as a car careened down the long drive far too fast. 

John smiled sourly. “Looks like your mother is here.”

Dean sighed happily. “Mom!” he called as the car door flung open wide. 

Mary stepped out of her vehicle already smiling. “Dean! Hey, baby!” Then her smile tightened. “John. Good of you to come.”

“Of course I came. I said I would be here.”

“You’ve said that a lot over the years.”

Dean felt his stomach knotting. “Mom,” he warned softly. 

She approached them with a grace Dean had always admired, and waited for each man to hug her. She stood on her toes and kissed Dean’s forehead and then John’s cheek. “Hello, boys. Where’s Sam?”

He looked over his parents carefully, and realized they had each dolled up for this gathering. Mary was devastating in a black dress and heels, with smoky makeup accenting her sharp eyes. John managed to evoke both charm and danger in his dark suit and the white shirt open at the top two buttons beneath his jacket. Each of them had cut their manes since he had seen them last. They looked younger than they had any right to look. Dean himself was in a soft pastel Hawaiian style shirt, with an expensive charm necklace, a new silver ring, and dark trousers. His jacket was in the car just in case. 

And of course, because they were the Family Winchester, even though he couldn’t see it, he knew each of them was armed. Because they were the Family Winchester, they didn’t even need to be. There was no way to completely disarm a Winchester. 

He wondered what Sam would think of the fact that the other three had gotten dressed up for this occasion. It was almost as though they were all a little anxious about meeting this new person in Sam’s life. But that was stupid. Who could possibly not love them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for the clothing comes from the EW 300 Episode (Lebanon) photo shoot. Not exact. But close.


	3. Right Where You Are

The love of his life was intimidatingly beautiful. Victor had never seen anything like him before. His usual confidence-maybe arrogance-flagged badly under Sam’s sweet smile. Victor had fallen immediately. 

He felt like he was still falling, every day, and today he feared would be the day he finally hit the bottom. 

“They’re going to love you,” Sam said again. “I do.”

Victor snorted softly. “None of my ex-in-laws have much use for me,” he reminded him. 

“So? My family will be different. Just relax. You’re a good man, Vic. Just be yourself.”

He kept nodding stupidly. “There’s a lot I can’t tell them. About what I do. They might think I’m being obstinate.”

Sam’s eyes were smirking at him, even if the smile was still as kind as always. “That’s okay. Winchesters don’t always share everything about themselves either. We’re a private group. They aren’t going to drill you. If anybody asks you something you can’t answer or don’t want to, you just say, that’s a story for another time. Okay? It’s Winchester code for ‘leave it alone.’”

Victor sighed. “This place is ridiculous. You get that, right? Like, when you said you had a family house we would all be meeting at, I’m thinking like a freaking summer cabin. You never told me you come from money, Sam.”

His lover shrugged. “It’s not really something we talk about.”

“A story for another time?”

Sam snickered. “Something like that.”

Victor took a deep breath and held it for a moment, then let it out slowly. He had played the dog and pony show in other relationships, but had never been so nervous before. It was partly remembering how badly those other times had always gone, and partly aching with just how badly he wanted to make Sam happy. His usual sharp sarcasm had waned and abandoned him. He didn’t even recognize his own voice at this point. 

“Vic? It doesn’t really matter, you know. I love you. You might hate my family. Some days I do too. But I’m still going to love you.”

It wasn’t how Victor might feel about Sam’s parents and brother that had kept him from sleeping most of last night. It was how they would inevitably feel about Victor that he dreaded. “I’ve never been real good at meet the parents.”

Sam kissed him gently. “You’ll be fine. And you look amazing.”

Victor glanced down at his suit. It wasn’t anything special. Victor didn’t own anything special. Most of what he had ever owned had gone to Cassie in the divorce, and the rest had been dropped out of Marcus’ third story apartment window as his eviction notice. There had been others, but those were the most horrible of his previous breakups. Cassie would have laughed at him if she could see him now, biting his nails over yet another meet and greet. Marcus would have probably thrown something at his head this time. 

The great door in the foyer opened, and suddenly there were voices everywhere. 

Victor froze. 

A large, handsome young man, an older man with intelligent, dark eyes and cropped hair, and a beautiful woman in black each stepped lightly into the sitting room, and their quiet chatter faded as they took in their guest. 

Victor wanted to bolt out the heavy, expensive door. 

But Sam grinned. “Hey, guys! This is Victor.”

Then, suddenly, there were handshakes and pounding on shoulders for Victor, and hugs for Sam, and the immediate warmth of the family put Victor into a shaky sense of safety. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. 

The big brother grinned at Sam. “Sammy! You order food? I’m starving!”

Sam smiled at him affectionately. “Yeah, I’ve got plenty laid out in the small dining room. Come on.”

They all walked together to the informal dining area-and who even had two dining rooms?-to find a sandwiches and antipasto spread awaiting them. Dean reached out, but Mary smacked his hand. 

Dean stared. 

“We are going to sit and eat like a normal family for once. Sam? Did you already get a room ready for you and your friend?”

Sam was smirking at Dean’s scowl. “Yeah, Mom. We’re good. We’re just staying one night. I gotta get back to work.”

Mary lifted a brow, and exchanged a glance with John. They each took their place at the heads of the table, and Dean dropped sulkily into a chair opposite the two Sam and Victor claimed. 

“Did you at least get beer?”

Sam began to laugh. “God, you’re a child.”

Dean glowered. He stood again to seek out the beverages. “Get your ass up and help me carry the drinks. I’ve only been here five minutes, and Mom’s already gotten violent. We might need to skip right past the beer and make some highballs.”

Victor felt Sam’s absence keenly. He hoped the man would hurry back. Preferably with the promised whiskey. He tried to smile at Sam’s parents. 

John’s voice was deep, and weirdly quiet, considering the way it commanded attention immediately. “So, Victor. Sam didn’t tell us much. What is it that you do?”

Mary was watching him warily. “And how did you two meet?”

He swallowed. “I’m an investigator with the FBI, and we met at a library when I was doing research for a case.”

The room was silent for several beats before Mary smiled tightly. “I’m sorry. Did you say FBI?”

John wasn’t bothering to smile at all. 

“I-I know it doesn’t pay much, but-“

Mary’s smile was becoming a grimace. “That’s okay. Isn’t it?”

John nodded, but he was watching Victor with quiet scrutiny. “Of course. Sure. What else do you do?”

Victor couldn’t help feeling as though he had already messed up. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned his dismal salary. That was probably rude. He just couldn’t help thinking about it when sitting in a lesser dining room that was better furnished than most of the entire homes he had been in. Why hadn’t Sam warned him about the money? He cleared his throat. “Cars,” he sputtered thoughtlessly. Then he wanted to kick himself. He had meant to save that for Dean. It was the only thing he could think of that he might have in common with Sam’s older brother. 

But John’s eyes lit with interest. “What about them?”

Victor was a smart man. He really was. And he was not easily intimidated. He couldn’t do his job if he could be scared off. It was just that Sam’s family clearly had that same disarming quality about them that the man himself had, and Victor had never been so off-balance as the day he had met Sam Winchester. 

He could hear the young man laughing with his brother a room away. He tried to refocus. “I, uh, I like classic cars. Used to rebuild them when I wasn’t so transient. Can’t haul a remodel along with me on the road, but there was a time when I would spend every free minute rebuilding.”

John finally gave him a ghost of a smile. “Yeah. I’m a mechanic from a family of mechanics.”

Mary snickered at that, but silently began preparing a plate, and gesturing to the others to do the same. 

Victor was grateful to get his hands busy doing something useful. “Really? I thought Sam told me you were in finance. Day trading, that sort of thing. High risk investments.” Which, now that he thought of it, should have tipped him off about the money thing. 

John’s smile widened. “That’s what I do now,” he responded coolly. “But I started out working under hoods.”

Mary began to shake her head, but again said nothing in response. 

“And what about you, Mrs. Winchester?”

She looked startled, but recovered quickly. “Mary. Please.”

The please was said in a way that made it clear this was not a request. 

“I work in collections.”

John choked into his sandwich. 

“Beers and booze,” Dean announced upon his return. He lifted a large crystal bowl of ice with glass bottles chilling in it, while Sam carried highball glasses and a bottle of expensive whiskey. 

Mary scowled. “Dean, that’s my grandmother's crystal.”

“And she’s happy it’s finally getting used again. Dad?”

John smirked and grabbed a bottle for himself. He caught the bottle opener Dean tossed and popped the top. Then he glanced at Victor. “Beer?”

It felt like a test, with all of them staring at him like that. Victor gave him a weak smile. “Booze,” he forced out finally. 

This time, it was Mary who laughed, and she poured one for each of them, while Dean opened two bottles and handed one to his brother. Then Mary lifted her drink with lovely, effortless elegance. “To family reunions,” she said. 

“And to new friends,” John purred back. 

Victor forgot to sip, and threw back his drink in one gulp. But then he realized Mary had done the same, and he smiled a real smile for the first time all day. “New families,” he added very quietly. 

Then he turned to Dean to truly look into his face, and it hit him like a punch to the throat that he had seen it before. That cocky, handsome face full of mischief. It took only imagining his cheeks pulled in and the full lips pursed, an eyebrow raised…

A hollow dread came over him. “Dean,” he heard himself saying, “what is it that you do?”

Dean’s grin made him want to throw up. The wink nearly did it. “Story for another time, buddy.”

That was how Agent Victor Henriksen had found himself face to face with a living, smirking wanted poster that he wasn’t even looking for.


	4. Broments

Dean had to admit, it was pretty awesome seeing Sam smile so much. He was such a moody kid all the time that the older man always felt like he was walking on eggshells. That didn’t stop him from teasing the hell out of the kid, but it bewildered him. Now, in the span of a half hour brunch, he had seen Sam smile more than he could remember him doing in years. So this Victor guy was okay in Dean’s book. 

That wasn’t going to stop him from teasing the hell out of the kid, of course. 

John and Mary had ascended the stairs, to separate bedrooms. John wanted to sleep off the road trip, and Mary said she had a few phone calls to make to her clients. Victor had looked hard at Dean, then muttered something to Sam about needing to print something from his laptop. Sam had shown him Grandpa Samuel’s old study, and then had rejoined Dean in the media room. 

Dean watched his brother drop onto a couch with a happy sigh. “So somebody’s been getting laid on the regular finally.”

As much as he loved Sam’s smile, the bitchface was a masterpiece. “Don’t be jealous.”

“He’s dreamy, but not my type.”

Sam smirked. “Out of your league?”

Dean shrugged, and tossed Sam a chilled beer. “Different sport,” he corrected. 

“I can’t believe you’re using that crystal as an ice bucket. Didn’t you see Mom’s face? You’re such an asshole.”

“I think I’m adorable.”

“You’re wrong.”

He chuckled. “Pillar of the community, Sammy.”

“More like asbestos.” 

They picked back and forth for a while, and flipped through the sports channels idly. It was just a backdrop for their conversation, and an excuse not to face one another directly, especially when the real talk started. 

Sam cleared his throat. “So? You staying under the radar?”

“I do okay.” He tossed the last of his after-brunch sandwich into his mouth. “This healing gig, it’s fun. Makes good cash. And it’s hard to shut down a scam that ain’t really hurting nobody.”

“You’re defrauding folks out of their money. How is that not hurting anyone?”

Dean scoffed at the television. “It’s a magic show, Sammy. You pay your admission, and you leave happy, and you don’t worry about how the tricks are done.”

“Then why did I hear about your magic show on public radio the other day? Talking about Sister Jo putting together a foundation for living expenses so she and her brother could afford to keep doing God’s work?”

He shrugged again, but this time he looked down at his beer. “Yeah. Heard about that. Pamela is going solo, into the psychic gig, and I’m going to check out of show business. They think I’m going back, even told Dad I was going back, but I’m really going to hole up here for a few weeks, to decide on my next move.”

Sam was watching him. “Yeah? Here at the Campbell place?”

“If Mom doesn’t care. Emmanuel and Joanna are looking too big time for me. And they’re going to get busted. They’re gonna cozzen the wrong folks one day soon, and the feds are going to shut them down.”

“And that’s really why?”

“Why what? Why I’m leaving? I got survival instincts they don’t seem to have.”

“But?”

He swallowed, and pulled his hand down his face. “But yeah. They’re starting to target older folks. Like, you know. Vulnerable folks. Not just rich bastards looking for entertainment. Promising to heal people by sending them prayers remotely, if they donate enough. Not what I signed up for. I’m not a good guy, but I’m not a dick.”

“You’re a dick,” Sam corrected. But he was smiling again, with that look in his eyes that said he was proud of his big brother for having a shred of morality left. 

He snorted back, and drank his beer. “Whatever. I’m going to have to find something else. The Allens and Pam can swindle the masses. I’m more of a one tennis bracelet at a time kind of guy. I’m going back to my roots. I just need some time to let things cool down.”

“Dean, your roots are in credit card fraud and grand theft auto. You stole your first car at thirteen.”

“And Dad made a mean profit on it. But not that far back. I’m twenty-six, dude. I’m talking my more recent roots.”

“That’s not what roots mean-“

“Playing pool and stuff, man! The good stuff. Not the stressful crap.”

“You could get a day job.”

“Hustling is my day job. Don’t get me wrong. I’m awesome at what I do. I’m the best. But I want something simpler for a while.”

Sam nodded. “Something less evil than scamming old ladies out of their retirement checks to pray for them.”

“Exactly. Simpler. I’m a simple man, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam.”

“And I don’t need the money. Mom made that clear back when I got my first mug shot. But I gotta do something.”

Sam was quiet for a while after that. 

Dean let him alone. The kid was cerebral in a way Dean never had been. Sam was like John in that way. Dean and Mary were different. They were smart too, certainly, but they were far more reactive than introspective. Dean and Mary would rather punch someone than talk something out. That was why the only yelling from their childhood had been between Sam and John. Those two were stubborn and sarcastic in their interactions. Dean and Mary were more inclined to hit something or slam a door, and usually they were miles down the road before they bothered to think much about what had happened. And for them, once a fist was thrown or someone backed down, it was over. Not so for Sam and John, who were legendary for the grudges they could nurture. Mary called them passive aggressive, and she and Dean were simply aggressive. Sam and Dean had come to blows a few times, but back then, Dean had been bigger and tougher, and he never let it go too far. He had seen Mary smack John once before the separation. But it was usually the hinges of the doors which took the brunt of the conflict in the Campbell home. 

He smiled to himself. “Remember the time you tried to sneak out of the house by climbing down the veranda, and you took that whole ivy thing down with you? God, you were the worst ninja ever.”

Sam scowled. “It didn’t help when you were laughing at me so hard that you woke Mom up.”

“What were you going to do? Just push the ivy back up? Mom would’ve noticed eventually.”

“What about the time you had that girl over in the middle of the night in the pool? When Mom was out on the job, and we thought Dad was out too, and then I just hear that low rumble of his voice, and this cacophony of splashing and yelping. The girl wouldn’t speak to you the next day in school.”

Dean groaned in response. “Rhonda Hurley. Those were good days.” He stared into the past for a moment, then returned to today. “So? Where’s your Rhonda?”

A couch cushion was tossed at his head. 

“Hey! Careful! Great-Grandma’s crystal!” he said with feigned horror. 

“Which she stole from Tiffany’s, by the way. That’s good stuff. Don’t break it.”

“I know. I pawned a decanter from the collection once, and made off with a few hundred dollars. But you didn’t answer me.”

“He’s up in the study, getting some work done.”

Dean realized then that he hadn’t asked what it was the new boyfriend did. “So is he a civilian or one of us?” Clearly the man was a civ. Sam would have mentioned it if he were part of the underworld. And Mary and John has been careful to avoid any talk of business at the table earlier. 

Sam smiled, and there was a glint to his eyes. “Story for another time.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“Don’t be. I’ll tell you later. But I want you to get to know him first, before I tell you that part.”

Dean stretched and yawned loudly. “Keep your secrets then, like one of those...secret-keepers. I’m taking Dad’s lead and going for a nap. Screw consciousness, that’s what I say.”

“You’re always unconscious. Keep the snoring to a low roar, will you? I don’t want to hear you three doors down like the good old days.”

He gave his brother a wink. “Good to see you, man. Seriously.”

Sam smiled. “I appreciate you coming. Jerk.”

“Bitch,” he yawned. He went to ascend the stairs, but looked back to see Sam click off the television and pull out his laptop. The nerd couldn’t keep from working even for a few hours, Dean noted fondly. 

He was still thinking about how nice it was to hang out with his kid brother again when he nearly slammed into someone at the top of the stairs. “Whoa. Take it easy…”

His voice faded off as he found himself face to face with the new guy, who looked equal parts smug and nervous, a combination which Dean wasn’t sure he had seen before, except perhaps on Emmanuel’s face before a revival.

“Uh, Victor…”

“Dean. May I speak to you a minute? In private?”

He blinked a few times, then shrugged. “Uh...yeah. Okay.”

He led the man back to the study from which he had just come. He sat at his grandfather’s mahogany desk but Victor did not sit. 

“What’s up?”

Victor held up a paper. “Nice shot,” he growled. “Dean Smith.”

The conman swallowed hard. That was his mug shot. His wanted poster. He sighed. “Man, that’s not even a good picture.”

Victor glowered down at him. “You’re a showman. A con artist. A fake.”

“The boobs are real.” He grinned, even as his stomach was turning. “So? What? You’re a cop? Sammy know that?”

“I’m FBI, and of course he knows. Question is, does he know what you are?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “What am I?”

“A criminal.”

A tendril of fear tightened his throat. Why would Sam ever bring a fed into the house? What the hell was wrong with him? “You planning on taking me in? Or more to the point...you think you can take me in?”

The first note of uncertainty played in Victor’s eyes. “I...I don’t know just yet. See, Dean Smith, I love your brother. And arresting you might spoil a nice evening. On the other hand, you’ve got a warrant out for your arrest. So you get the position I’m in.”

Dean began to smile. “Well, ain’t that a bitch,” he murmured. 

Victor snarled at him. “Let’s chat.”


	5. Honor Among Thieves

Mary put her phone down at the sound of the soft knock. She smiled. 

Sam. He was always so much more thoughtful and gentle than the other two. Mary loved her brooding brutes-yes, even John, God help her-but she adored her younger, quieter boy too. Sam had a temper, and no one knew that better than she, but he had a sweet nature about him that always cleared the storm clouds away. 

So what was her sweet boy doing with that arrogant fed out there?

“Come in, Sam.”

He stepped lightly into the room. It wasn’t the sneaking catlike silence of Dean or the haunting stalk of John. Sam’s grace was simply born of a lifetime of being careful. 

So? What was her careful son doing with that man who could ruin them all?

“Hey, Mom. How’d you know it was me?”

She watched him fondly as he approached to sit next to her on the bed. “I always know. You want to talk about something?”

Sam gave her a little simpering shrug. “I think I owe you that.”

Her eyebrow lifted, and she stood to fuss with her suitcase. It was nice to be back home. She had been on the hunt for Arthur Ketch for too long. He’d been a slippery prey, but Mick Davies and the company board paid well for the return of his cheating business partner. Now she was home for a stretch, but home wasn’t quite as safe as it had always been. “You brought a fed home, Sam.”

He nodded. “I love him, Mom.”

She sighed as she pulled out her clothing piece by piece and put them away. “I can see that. But how did you even let that happen? How long before you knew what he did?”

“I knew immediately.”

Mary frowned at last, and turned to face him. “Sam, I don’t understand. And neither does your father. And I don’t think Dean even knows. Did you warn him?”

Sam shrugged. “Dean’s not stupid. He knows better than to talk about the family business with anyone who isn’t part of it.”

She hummed in a way that let him know she wasn’t convinced. 

“Mom, Victor is more than just a fed. Okay? He’s everything I ever wanted. And he’s a good man.”

Mary snorted at this. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

He took a deep breath. “Mom, you knew he was a civilian when you came to meet him.”

“He’s not a civilian, Sam! He’s not one of us, but he’s not a civilian either! He’s the law! And that may be fine for you, but it puts the rest of us at risk. I’m surprised at you. You’re smarter than that, Sam! You can’t bring a man like that-“

“You wanted to meet the man in my life.”

“I didn’t know he was a man who could put us away for life!” she snapped. 

Sam was silent. 

Mary sighed, and sat beside him again. “I’m sorry, baby. I don’t mean to...Sam, you’ve always been different, and I love you for how good you are, but I always thought you were at the least loyal to the rest of us. Now I wonder what you were thinking, putting us at risk-“

Hurt splashed onto her son’s face. “Loyal? You think I’m not loyal? I’ve been nothing but loyal my whole life!”

“Yes! So tell me what it looks like now, you bringing home a man who could separate this family and put us in cages for being what we are?”

The anger barely covered the look of betrayal in Sam’s eyes. “Mom, if you all can’t be happy for me because you’re too busy being worried for yourselves, the problem isn’t me or Victor. It’s you. I know what I’m doing, Mom. You can have faith in that, knowing that I have always been loyal to this family, in spite of its issues, or you can turn your back, and Vic and I won’t bother you again. He loves me. If you love me, you’ll trust me that I know what I’m doing.”

Mary grabbed his hand as he stood to walk away. “Sam! Wait.” She lifted herself to look up into his eyes. John was the one who read faces for a living. But she knew her son. She nodded slowly. “Okay, Sam. Okay, baby, you’re right. I trust you. Just please be sure no one gets hurt in all this. Not any of us, not Victor, and especially not you.”

“I know what I’m doing, Mom,” he murmured again softly. His eyes searched hers. “I love Victor, and I would never do anything to hurt him. I love my family, and I would never let anyone hurt any of you. Look, Dad and Dean are resting. You should get some sleep too. We’ve got all night to hang out. And I promise you that everything is going to be fine.”

His mother smiled shakily. “You’re right. I’m tired. And I’ve missed my bed.”

“I’ll see you in an hour or two. I’ve got dinner planned for us. Rest till then.” He walked toward the door, then hesitated, and turned back to her. “Mom, you said I’ve always been different. And I’ve always wanted a normal life. But I’m still one of us, okay?”

She loved this boy. “I know, Sam. I do know.”

He nodded and slipped out of the master suite as silently as he had entered.


	6. Hats Off

The door closed softly as Sam was emerging from a shower. He smiled. “Vic?” he called.

The large man entered the suite, with his usual level of paranoid caution at a heightened degree. He looked around the room in the same way Sam suspected he had been taught to clear a space while hunting for the feds.

“Just me, babe.”

Victor looked up at him now. “Right. I know.” But he didn’t relax his shoulders. “Sam? We gotta talk. Now.”

He took a deep breath, and reached for his clothes. His favorite old jeans and Stanford hoodie would be fine for tomorrow morning. But he knew his family, and each of them would be dressed for power this evening, just as they had for brunch. It was why family photos always made them look like mafia, which was silly since the Campbells hadn’t been associated with the various mob families for generations, and had never really been insiders. They had their own rackets. His family was old. On Mary’s father’s side, Sam had ancestors conning folks on the Mayflower. Samuel Campbell’s own father had been a notoriously adept loan shark, and his mother had been exceptional with her own investments. The estate itself had been paid for with cash, made quite legally in the stock market, after Samuel’s mother had invested the windfall from the insurance company when she had reported the theft of her incredibly valuable jewelry, which she had stolen from a banker’s wife. She had also pawned the jewelry, of course, so that enriched the pot as well as the payoff from the insurance fraud. From there, the family money had grown through various ventures, and now Dean was right that they didn’t need money any longer.

As Sam saw things, the family business was doing fine without him.

The Winchester story had been different. John’s father, Henry, was said to have been murdered by an angry associate when the feds had shut down the counterfeiting ring. John had been raised by his mother, and had come a long way since he had been the best car thief the law had never caught. Mary said he could hotwire a car faster than most people could turn the key in the ignition. They had met when she had done what the police couldn’t, by hunting down the man who had stolen her corvette. From what Dean and Sam could piece together from their parents’ conflicting stories, it seemed clear that Mary had taken John to the ground without much trouble, but then John had turned on the charm, and they were in love before they had even decided not to kill one another. Dean wasn’t entirely convinced they had ever actually decided against that, which was why he had been so anxious during the separation. But Sam knew better. His parents couldn’t stand to be in the same house together for more than a few hours, but they would never stop loving one another.

Mary was formally trained and John was self-taught, but mixed marriages worked just fine when everyone had their own space and kept weapons holstered.

He smiled at Victor now, as he slid into his boxers and tee. He would put on his white suit later. He knew how much Victor enjoyed being able to see his arms. “What did you want to talk about?”

Victor’s determination was faltering under Sam’s steady gaze. He sighed. “God, you’re too beautiful.”

Sam snickered. “You’re too easy.”

“Sam, I need to tell you something...Something’s come up…” Victor sighed again, this time with frustration. He took Sam’s hands in his own. “God, please don’t...Sam, I spoke with Dean.”

Mild surprise lit his smile. “Already? Wow. You are good.”

Victor frowned at this. “I-I don’t know what you...Sam, your brother isn’t-He’s wanted, Sam. There’s no better way to say it. He’s got warrants out for his arrest, and I can’t pretend I don’t know. I’m so sorry. I know you think he’s a great guy, but-but he’s done some bad things. I’m so sorry I have to be the one to tell you.”

Sam loved this man. He was so passionate. So good. “Yeah, Vic. I know.”

The older man stepped back, startled. “You-you know?” Now his eyes narrowed into slits. “What do you mean, you know?”

“I mean I know. Dean’s a con artist. A damn good one.”

Victor stared at him. “I...don’t understand.”

“Welcome to the family, babe. I appreciate you not arresting him immediately. That would’ve made this next part especially awkward.”

Dark eyes followed him as he reached into his bag, and pulled out a small box. “Sam, what’s happening?”

“Victor, I know everything. About you.”

Suddenly, his lover looked uneasy, in a completely different way. “What’s that mean?”

Sam had never been so in love with him as he was right that moment. He had been waiting for this moment for months. Victor had caught on a few hours earlier than Sam had anticipated, but he loved him all the more for it. Victor was shrewd and clever, and Sam could see the intelligent calculations going on in the man’s head, could see the way he was running scenarios and doing hypothetical equations…

God, he loved this man.

“I know you’re not a cop,” he sighed happily. “You’re a con, just like my brother. You managed to con the freaking FBI itself. That’s...that’s major league, Vic.”

Victor began to back away again. He shook his head. “That’s ridiculous. I’m a federal agent. You know that.”

Sam shook his head. “I know you’re actually Henry Victorsen, and you’ve been playing a federal agent for years. I know you’re one of the most amazing frauds of all time. I know you were facing decades in prison for a crime the arresting agent framed you for, and I know you stole his credentials, and got away with it because he took the money and ran.”

His lover was beginning to smile, even as he continued to inch backward. “Real classy guy,” he sneered. “Left behind an old, dying mother with dementia. She said I took better care of her than I ever had before, and couldn’t imagine what had come over me. I was an improvement over the old model.”

Hazel green eyes sparkled with admiration. “And you put in for extended leave to take care of this woman till she passed, then applied for a transfer, and somehow the paperwork got confused, and that man disappeared, and Victor Henriksen was born, complete with credentials from Quantico. It was a breathtaking scam, Vic.”

“Yeah. So? How’d you find out?”

Sam grinned and reached for Victor’s hand.

There was hesitation, but it only lasted just a moment, before Victor reached back with a sigh.

“You came to find me. That first day, at the library, it was me you were looking for.”

Now the dark eyes widened and Victor’s lips parted in shock. He shook his head. “You? The hacker I was tracking? It was you?”

Sam’s smirk was smug. “I’m a gray hat, Vic. But I’m seriously good at what I do. And when I realized you were closing in on me, I led you to the library, so I could see you first. And you were gorgeous. So smart and so attractive, and so, so not a fed. So I did what I do best.”

“Research,” Victor guessed wryly.

“Research,” Sam confirmed. “I wasn’t lying when I said I do freelance research for a living. I just also wear an off-white hat online whenever I get the itch.”

Victor burst into laughter. “Get the...Sam, I was tracking the most prolific hacker on the planet! He had already released damning evidence on three Russian oligarchs, and dropped the emails and financial statements of a French senator in the lap of an Al Jazeera human rights reporter.”

“He ran an exploitive human trafficking ring that promised refugees papers and jobs in Europe if they paid a fee, then sold them to be used as free labor. The reporter did most of the legwork, but he needed some real proof. I do freelance research.”

“Inside private email and bank accounts.”

“I go where the research takes me. Not my fault all the good stuff is on so-called secured platforms that can be broken into.”

Victor shook his head. “That’s not a gray hat, Sam. That’s illegal.”

He shrugged. “White, gray, black. I’m a hacktivist. And sometimes I get paid for my work.”

“So you’re Lost_Shoe. Going on seven months, I’ve been sleeping with Lost_Shoe. And all this time, you’ve known I’m just playing a fed. Sam, why are you just now…”

Sam leaned in to kiss him, and let the contact linger. The man was exactly what Sam had always wanted, but never looked for. He had never fit in with the family business, not exactly. What he did wasn’t for profit. He was paid by those who could afford to hire him, and knew where to look, but he also did hours and hours of work for no payment at all, because he saw it as important work. He exposed bad guys and tipped off good guys. Victor was right. He wasn’t a white hat, nor even really a gray one. Neither was anyone else in his family. After years of soul searching, Sam had decided he was okay with that.

“You wanted me to show I wouldn’t go after your brother,” Victor said finally.

He sighed happily. “You’re not a real fed. But you have the power to make things very difficult for my family. We aren’t white hats, Vic. But we aren’t all bad either. We’ve done bad things. So have you. Before I called you on what you’ve done, I needed to see that you weren’t going to use my brother’s fraud to strengthen your own.”

Victor put his hands up. “Victor Henriksen is due to retire real soon. I’m thinking he’s going to be killed in the line of duty.”

“You’ll need a new name. How’s Victor Winchester sound?” He opened the small box to reveal two identical gold bands. Inside one was etched L_S. Inside the other was VHW.

The smile spread until Victor looked happier than he ever had before. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” Then he looked up. “Your brother. Is he really wanted by the FBI?”

Sam snorted. “You think I let them keep a file on him? Of course not. I’ve been cleaning up his digital fingerprints for years. Mom and Dad too.”

“Wait. Mom and Dad?”

“Like I said, Vic, welcome to the family. Told you you’d fit right in.”


	7. The New Normal

John watched Sam rush around the house, straightening up. He smiled at him. “Can I do something?” he asked again. 

“No. Dad, I told you. I’m fine. Relax. I’m hosting this shindig, and I’ve got everything under-Oh, crap. Hang on.”

His father chuckled. This beat the hell out of getting dressed up to go to the old Campbell place. John could pull off a sharp silhouette in a dark suit, but he would always feel better in a pair of jeans and a gray Henley. The expectations of suiting up to visit his own family had faded in the past few years. Sam had everything to do with how close they all were now, and he was grateful. He wondered if he had told him so, and made a mental note to do it tonight. 

“Okay, yes, come work this damn grill. I’d rather hand it over than pretend I know what I’m doing and mess it all up for everyone.”

John laughed softly. “Relax, Sam. You’ve done everything. You’re the one that keeps saying that family gatherings need to be more relax-“

“Crap, the potato salad! Did I chill beer?”

The older man snickered as he got the beautiful grill set up and roaring. “Relax, son. Why are you so nervous?”

Sam glanced back at him through the screened door. “Because-because you’re in my house!” 

“Am I some kinda monster? Come on, Sam! We’re family.”

“You don’t understand.”

John smirked at that. He understood perfectly. He remembered meeting the Campbells after falling for their daughter. “So make me understand.”

Sam was out of breath, which made John wonder what the hell kind of potato salad was causing that much trouble. “All my life, we’ve all been at one another’s throats and hiding who we are, even from each other. It’s been better lately, and-and I don’t want to mess it up. You and Mom are really trying, and Dean…”

“We’re never going to be a normal family, Sam.”

“No, I know. But we can have a normal cookout, right?”

His father smiled into the grill. “Sammy, you’re right. We’ve all mellowed a little since that reunion where you brought a fake fed to the table. Your mom will never stop hunting, but she’s moved on to legitimate, legal bounty hunting. I’m playing high rolling rooms at casinos and competitions instead of behind bars and butcher shops. And your brother…”

“Yeah. And I appreciate that, all of it. But it feels kind of precarious, you know? Like one wrong move and we’re sliding back into the family business the way it used to be.”

“I ain’t the one who tipped off the feds about that congressman’s shady side business.”

Sam stopped crashing around in the kitchen. 

John laughed. He had seen his younger son’s fingerprints all over that story when it hit the news. 

“I just...He was hurting a lot of people and making money on it. It wasn’t right.”

“You gonna tell me everything you did to get that data was above board?”

“No. But it wasn’t right. And two wrongs don’t make it right, but they do make the feds investigate a guy’s ties to a pharmaceutical company that’s literally poisoning people’s water with their dumping. I just put the information out there. It was up to them from that point.” 

“Just saying, kiddo, we’re never going to be a normal family, and maybe that isn’t all bad, you know? So relax. Nothing precarious here. We’re mostly above board now. And when we’re not…”

“I can cover our tracks,” Sam agreed. 

But he shook his head. “When we’re not, it’s because we’re saving people. I’m proud of you, son.”

It didn’t matter how old Sam got. Those words were magic to John’s boys. He made another mental note as he listened to Sam clearing his throat of emotion, to tell them each more often. 

A tinkling laughter filled the air, and John sighed happily. 

“Manning the grill? How long has that been?”

He turned to see his wife, his beautiful, strong wife, in jeans and boots and a gorgeous green blouse, sauntering through the lawn. “A while. But I think I remember how. Unless you’re here to take me in, Huntress.”

Mary’s laughter would always be his favorite part of any reunion. She kissed his cheek, and he liked that too. “So long as you remember that I could, I don’t have to. Where’s Sam?”

“Kitchen!” their son called. “Mom? You know how to make slaw?”

She cringed. “Uh, I’m kind of a one-hit wonder, Sam. It’s either Winchester Surprise, or it’s something that ends up being Winchester Surprise, and not in a good way.”

John snickered. “You look good, Mary,” he murmured. 

“I started to get dressed. But Sam was so insistent that we come casual. I guess this works.”

“Works really well,” he confirmed. 

The smile she gave him indicated that she appreciated his assessment. “You staying here tonight?”

He went back to watching his own work. “Why? Got a better offer?”

“I’ve got a room at a hotel in town. Lady like me, I might need someone big and strong to keep me safe.”

He snorted at this. “Yeah. You’re more likely to kick my ass than I am to need to protect you. But sure. I’m happy to pretend if you are. And I’d love to sneak off together like when you lived with your dad.” 

She grinned. “Never tell Dean what that Impala’s backseat was for.”

“He’s figured it out himself, I’m sure.”

“Those were good times.”

John looked up and smiled. “These are the good times, Mary. Right now. Look at us. At Sam’s place for a cookout, waiting for the boys to gather at the table. Then leaving together instead of running our separate ways. These are the good times.”

That incredible woman he had married, the one who had kicked him out a dozen times, the one he had walked out on a dozen more, the one he would never be able to get over, and the one who would never really get over him, she gave him that pretty, wicked smirk and winked an eye at him. “Then let the good times roll,” she said, and this time, she kissed him on the lips. 

***

Dean was cackling as he burst into the house. “Sammy!”

“It’s Sam!” came the automatic response. 

“Guess who’s coming to dinner!” he sang out. 

Sam appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “Better be your partner, or you’re going back out to find him.”

Victor stepped into the house, quieter but smiling. “Heya, Sam.”

He stepped past Dean to wrap his arms around his husband. “Hey, Vic.”

Dean rolled his eyes, because he had to, but he was happy for his brother. Hell, he was happy for himself. Victor had turned out to be the best partner Dean had ever hustled with, and they had brought in a chunk of cash each that would keep them in good beer and whiskey for a long time. Dean could live this life forever. What he did now wasn’t going to bring the real cops down on him, and the thrill was still there. He didn’t need the money. But he loved the hustle. Victor was great at it. They played pool, threw darts, and Dean had even started keeping bar at a roadhouse. It was a real job, and he couldn’t help being a little proud of it. Sam had been shocked. On his off days, he and Victor traveled and made their drinking money, and sent the rest home for Sam to invest. He had never seen his kid brother so happy. 

“I missed you, babe,” Sam murmured. 

“Missed you too. Playing Clyde to his Bonnie just ain’t the same as being home with you.”

“Shut up,” Dean interjected. “I’m Clyde, and you know it.”

“So long as you two don’t Thelma-and-Louise that car!” John called from the other room. 

Victor laughed. “Sam? Something hit the news this week, kind of seemed a little…”

Dean watched Sam curiously. 

His brother ducked his head. “Look, the guy was profiting from protecting a company that dumps dangerous chemicals into-“

“Shh! Okay, okay. I ain’t judging. I just thought it looked a little like a Lost_Shoe move. Feds won’t say where they got the info, but I thought I might know.”

Dean smirked. “You still hacking, baby brother?” he teased. “We’ve all gone straight, and you’re the one who can’t keep your hand out of the cookie jar?”

A delightful blush was heating Sam’s face now. “Knock it off.”

“Just saying, kiddo. You’ve always got to be the rebel in the family.”

He stepped into the kitchen but turned to watch his two brothers interact for a moment before going to greet his parents. 

Victor was chuckling, but he reached up to push hair from Sam’s eyes with gentle fingers. “How’s my husband?”

“I was nervous, but now that you’re here, I’m not. I’m good. You and Dean really weren’t up to anything?”

“Trust me, Sam. Your brother is perfectly content being a menace but not a criminal. He’s said a hundred times that he loved what he did before, but he’s not missing it. Dean’s a con, a hustler. But he’s a good guy. And you know that’s me too. Right? You gave me a chance to prove that all that time ago. I got a string of angry exes, and I did a lot of stuff I shouldn’t have. But what we do now...it’s mostly just fun.”

Sam nodded, and Dean let out a sigh of relief. His little brother’s opinion meant the world to him, more than anyone else’s, even their parents. If Sam could believe he was a good man at heart, it must be true. 

“I like not having to be so careful all the time. I like not worrying so much. Have your fun, Vic. But please stay good.”

Victor kissed Dean’s brother gently. “For you, I can be anything.”

“You can be anything anyway,” Sam pointed out. “Dean too. And my dad and mom. We’re a family of cheats and frauds. I’m just asking that you all stay good while you do what you do. Be anything. But be good.”

Victor put their foreheads together and promised. 

Dean smiled, and slipped away silently, to greet his mother and challenge his father to a game of cards. These were the best times Dean had ever known, and he never wanted them to end.


End file.
